by Adele Abbott
“Thank you for seeing us at such short notice, Mrs Well,” Tyler said.
“Please call me Jill.” I couldn’t be bothered with the Max/Well/Maxwell explanation.
“We tried three other P.I.s before you, but they were all too busy to see us.”
I wasn’t sure which stung the most. The fact that I was fourth in line, or that everyone else had more work on than I did.
“I’m rather busy too, but I should just about be able to slot you in.”
“I assume you’re familiar with Theo’s case? It’s been all over the TV and press.”
“I saw the article in The Bugle.”
“The Bugle?” Tyler looked like he’d swallowed a fly.
“My husband takes it for the ten-pin bowling coverage. I understand he was missing for several weeks, believed kidnapped?”
“There’s no believed about it. Theo has confirmed he was kidnapped and held captive before he managed to escape.”
“And how exactly can I help?”
Nancy spoke for the first time, “My husband, Jude, has been arrested and charged with Theo’s kidnapping.”
“Jude? He’s Theo’s brother, isn’t he?”
“That’s right.”
“Did Theo tell the police that his brother was responsible?”
“No, Theo has no idea who kidnapped him,” Henry said. “He never saw his captor.”
“Sorry, I should have asked before. What exactly is your connection to Jude and Theo?”
“I’m Jude’s friend. We’ve known each other since we were children; I was best man at his and Nancy’s wedding. As soon as I heard he’d been arrested, I got in touch with her to see how I could help.”
“I was in a bit of a state,” she chipped in.
“Understandably.”
Henry continued, “It was my idea to contact a private investigator. It’s obvious to me that the police aren’t interested in looking for anyone else.”
“If Theo didn’t point the finger at Jude, then I assume the police must have some other evidence?”
“They’re staying pretty tight-lipped, but from what I can gather, they found something with Jude’s fingerprints on it at the location where Theo was being held.”
“Where was that?”
“I have no idea. When we visited Theo at the hospital, he was a little vague about it. All he knows for sure is that he was kept in the basement of a building somewhere. The thing is, Jill, there’s no way Jude would ever have done anything like this. Jude Crane is a good man. I’d trust him with my life.”
“How do Theo and Jude get along?”
“They don’t always see eye to eye,” Nancy said. “But they’re still very close.”
“They run a business together,” Henry added. “Cranes Drains. Nancy works there too, don’t you?”
“Yes, but I haven’t been into the office since Theo disappeared. I haven’t been able to focus on anything else.”
“Perfectly understandable. Where was Theo snatched? Do we know?”
“His car was found in the car park outside West’s mini-market, on the Lower Washbridge road.”
“Any witnesses? CCTV?”
“According to the police, there’s CCTV footage of him going into the shop to buy cigarettes.”
“What about in the car park?”
“They don’t have cameras outside the store.”
“So we know he went into the shop, but have no idea what happened when he went back to his car?”
“That’s correct.”
“Before Theo reappeared, had the police been working on any particular lines of enquiry?”
“They didn’t seem to have a clue,” Henry said. “The only lead they’d managed to come up with was a report from a motel. Someone there reckoned they’d seen a man who resembled Theo.”
“What happened?”
“Nothing. The report came in on the same day as Theo turned up, so there was no point in them following it up. The only reason I know about it is because the policeman who informed us that Theo was safe told me. It seems he’d been on his way over to the motel when the call came in that Theo had been found.”
Thirty minutes and much discussion later, I agreed to take on the case. Before they left, I told them that I’d want to speak to Theo Crane as soon as he was released from hospital.
“Do either of you have Theo’s address, please?”
“I don’t.” Henry turned to Nancy.
“He moved to a new house a couple of weeks before he was kidnapped,” she said. “I’ve only been there once. That was when Jude and I went to look for him when he didn’t show up for Sunday lunch. It’s a new housing development, but I can’t remember the address off the top of my head.”
“Not to worry. Maybe one of you can give me a call with it?”
“Of course.”
***
By the time Henry Tyler and Nancy Crane had left, Mrs V was out on her driving lesson. That meant if I wanted a coffee, I’d either have to make it myself or go out and get one.
So, Coffee Games it was.
What do you mean, I’m lazy? This was all part of my new drive to improve my delegation skills. I was starting by delegating the coffee making.
As I waited to be served, my ears were assaulted by the sound of dozens of mini-explosions. The game of the day was Battleship. When I was a kid, I’d played the game on a board using little plastic figures, but the version being used in the shop was electronic, complete with annoying sound effects.
“Hi, Jill,” Sarah said.
“Hi. Don’t all those noises drive you crazy?”
“You get used to it after a while. To be honest, I prefer this to snap day, with everyone yelling ‘snap’ every couple of minutes. What can I get for you?”
“A caramel latte, please.”
“Anything to eat? Muffins are on two for one today.”
“I wish you hadn’t told me that.”
“Would you like two?”
“No, I really shouldn’t.”
“Are you sure?”
“Go on, then. It’s too good an offer to pass up. I can always save one for later. By the way, Sarah, are those machines difficult to use?”
“The coffee machine? Not really. Why?”
“My sister has bought one for her house. It’s not as elaborate as that one, but she’s still struggling to get to grips with it.”
“Would you like me to put one of these muffins in a bag for you?”
“Err, no, it’s okay, thanks.”
Chapter 5
When I arrived back at the office building, there was a surprise waiting for me. While I’d been gone, Sid Song or his songsters had replaced the sign.
Good news, you might think.
But you’d be wrong.
“Mr Song, it’s Jill Maxwell.”
“Good morning to you.” When I’d first encountered Sid Song, that singsong voice of his had been mildly irritating, but now it made me want to reach down the phone line and pull out his vocal chords.
“No, it isn’t a good morning, Mr Song.”
“If you’re worried about the new sign, fear not, it’s being put up this morning.”
“It has already been installed.”
“Excellent.”
“No, it isn’t. It’s wrong again.”
“That’s impossible. It’s precisely what you requested.”
“The sign says Jill Maxwell, but there’s no mention of what I do.”
“But that’s what you asked for: Jill Maxwell, and nothing else.”
“No, I didn’t.”
“I’m afraid you did. In case there were any further problems, I took the liberty of recording our last telephone conversation. Hold on a moment, and I’ll play it back for you.”
The line went dead for a couple of minutes, and I was starting to think that he’d hung up on me when I heard:
“Hold on. How long will you be gone for?”
“A couple of weeks.”
&nbs
p; “And you’ll get straight onto this as soon as you get back?”
“Of course. It’ll be my first job.”
“And you definitely know what I want this time: Jill Maxwell. Nothing else.”
“Got it. Sorry, I have to dash. Cissie is tooting the horn.”
“Jill, are you still there?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“As you just heard, you definitely said that you wanted Jill Maxwell and nothing else.”
“Yeah, but I—err—what I meant was—err—”
“That is what you said, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so.”
“So are we good now?”
“No, we aren’t good. I’m going to need another sign to go underneath this one.”
“Okay. What do you want it to say?”
“Private Investigator.”
“Got it.”
“It will need to be the same size, font and colours as the one you’ve just installed.”
“No problem.”
“How quickly can you do it?”
“We’re very busy at the moment, what with having been away on holiday.”
“Surely you could push this one through, given the circumstances.”
“The best I could do would be two weeks.”
“Okay, but make sure there are no mistakes.”
“There won’t be. I’ve recorded this call to ensure that.”
“Good, right. Thank you.”
I’d no sooner finished on the call than Mrs V popped her head around the door. “Have you seen the sign?”
“Yes, Mrs V, I have seen it.”
“It doesn’t say what you do.”
“I know that.”
“Why didn’t you say something to them when they came to install it?”
“I wasn’t here. I’d gone down the road to Coffee Games.”
“I knew that caffeine habit of yours would land you in trouble one day.”
“I’ve just spoken to Mr Song. He’s going to install a second sign, with the words Private Investigator on it, but that’s going to take another two weeks.”
“Oh dear. What will I do if someone calls and asks what you do in the meantime?”
“Tell them I buy signs for a living.”
Winky, who had been dozing under the sofa, emerged and went back to assembling his cat clocks. “It would make a good documentary, don’t you think?”
“What would?”
“The saga of your new sign. They could call it: A Sign Of The Times.”
“Are you tired of breathing?”
“That’s another thing that’s changed since you got hitched. You’ve lost your sense of humour.”
***
An hour later, while Winky was on another break from his clock building, Mrs V came through to my office, and closed the door behind her.
“Jules is out there with another lady. She seems rather upset, and is asking if you could spare them a few minutes.”
“Who’s the lady? Do you know?”
“She didn’t say, and I didn’t like to ask. They both seem close to tears.”
“Okay, you’d better send them in.”
When they came through to my office, the older woman had her arm through Jules’; it was as though she needed the support just to stand up. Jules certainly didn’t look her usual happy-go-lucky self.
“Thank you for seeing us, Jill. This is Marcy—she’s Gilbert’s mother.”
The woman managed a nod, but she didn’t speak.
“Why don’t you both take a seat, and I’ll get Mrs V to make tea for us all.”
Jules helped Marcy into a chair while I went through to ask Mrs V to organise the drinks.
“Marcy came to see me,” Jules said. “She’s very worried about Gilbert.”
“Right?”
“They’ve taken him,” Marcy said. “Those fish people.”
“Fish people?”
Jules continued, “After Gilbert and I broke up, Marcy and I stayed in touch. She knew that I worked at the police station, and that I used to work for a private investigator. She thought I might know someone who could help to save Gilbert.”
“Sorry, but I’m not quite following. Save him from what? And who are the fish people?”
“He’s got mixed up with that stupid cult. You must have seen it in the papers.”
“Hang on. Are you talking about the cult of salmon?”
“That’s the one. They’re actually called The Salmon Association.”
“They’re evil,” Marcy said. “Pure evil.”
“What exactly has happened to Gilbert?”
Jules turned to Marcy. “Do you want to tell Jill?”
“They approached him in town a few weeks ago. Gave him one of their stupid leaflets and invited him to a meeting. I didn’t think anything of it at the time because it sounded like some kind of joke, but it’s no joke. It’s sinister, that’s what it is.”
“I take it Gilbert has become involved with this cult?”
“They have their hooks well and truly into him now. He’s not the same boy anymore.”
“How has he changed, exactly?”
“The only thing he’ll eat now is salmon. Breakfast, lunch and dinner, it has to be salmon. But not any old salmon—it has to be the salmon he gets from that cult.”
“Is that their angle? Are they fleecing him on the price of the salmon they’re selling?”
“No, it isn’t that. They provide the salmon for free, but all that fish isn’t doing him any good. He doesn’t look well, and it even seems to be affecting his walking.”
“Will you help, Jill?” Jules said.
“Of course I will. Why don’t you take Marcy home now, and I’ll liaise with you if I need more information?”
“Thanks, Jill. I told you she’d be able to help, didn’t I, Marcy? Come on, let’s get you back home.”
As they were headed out of the door, Jules turned back to me. “I’m sorry you and Jack couldn’t make it to my engagement party.”
“Me too,” I lied. “It was just that—err—Jack had a work thing happening on the same day. We had to go there, unfortunately.”
“I understand. Anyway, thanks for this, Jill.”
“No problem. I’ll be in touch as soon as I have anything to report.”
“I’ll never understand why you got rid of that pretty, young thing instead of the old bag lady,” Winky said.
“I didn’t get rid of her. She found another job.”
“That cult sounds fantastic. Where do I sign up?”
***
“I think you’ll like it,” Kathy said.
We were on our way to West Chipping, to look at the premises where Kathy was thinking of basing the second shop in her retail empire.
“Why did you choose West Chipping?”
“It’s the nearest town of any size to Washbridge, and there’s only one other bridal shop in the town centre.”
“Until Grandma opens a shop there too.”
“She wouldn’t, would she?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past her.”
“Even if she does, I’ve already proved she’s no competition for me.”
“Listen to you. I’ve never known you so confident about anything before.”
“I feel as though I’ve truly found my vocation at last. I never realised what a buzz it is working for yourself. I can remember when you used to be like that about your business before you became so jaded.”
“I’m not jaded. I’ll have you know I have big plans for my business too.”
“And what are they?”
“First, I’m going to employ an office manager.”
“To do what?”
“Manage the office, obviously.”
“You have Mrs V for that, don’t you?”
“Mrs V is my receptionist/PA. That’s a completely different role.”
“And what will managing the office entail exactly?”
“Lots of things.”
/> “For example?”
“Getting me better organised.”
“That’s mission impossible.”
“I know I’m not very well organised at the moment that’s why I need a manager.”
“But you’re a control freak.”
“Why does everyone think that?”
“Maybe because it’s true.”
“Rubbish. I’d be quite happy to let someone run the office while I focus on investigations.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
The shop was on the main high street in West Chipping, with a florist on one side and a cake shop on the other.
“Do you see what I mean about the location?” Kathy was buzzing with excitement. “What could be better neighbours than a florist and a cake shop?”
“It certainly looks good from out here. Can we go inside and take a look?”
“We can when the landlord gets here.” She checked her watch. “He should be here any minute—ah, there he is.”
I followed her gaze to a man walking towards us. It was a man I recognised.
“I hope I haven’t kept you waiting, Mrs Brooks,” Martin Macabre said.
“No, we’ve only just got here. This is my sister, Jill Maxwell. I wanted her to see the shop.”
“Mrs Maxwell and I are already acquainted.”
“Oh?” Kathy turned to me.
“Mr Macabre is my landlord.”
“Why don’t the two of you take a look inside while I wait out here, ladies?” Macabre unlocked the door, and ushered us into the shop.
“He seems like a nice man.” Kathy, as always, was a terrible judge of character.
“Are you kidding? The guy is a slimeball. He’s trying to get me out of my offices.”
“That’s only because he wants to be able to rent the whole floor as one, though, isn’t it? So, what do you think of this place?”
“It’s certainly in good condition.”
“Just the right size too. The changing room would go over there in the corner.”
“It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”
“I have, more or less, but I’d still appreciate your thoughts on it.”
“Everything about the shop is great. My only reservation would be him.” I gestured to Macabre, who was looking at us through the window. “If you’re going to do this, make sure you get a good lawyer to go through the lease with a fine-tooth comb.”